Judging from the enormous back zits I was forced to contemplate as I stood in line at the beach-side baqala this summer, the Middle East’s steady diet of KFC Wrapstars is finally beginning to catch up with it.

And if you could witness the weekend competition for parking spots at the McDonald’s on Gulf Road, no one would blame you for coming to the conclusion that the french fry is the protagonist of a powerful new religion.  In fact, seven years after Kuwait’s landmark decision to let foreign-owned businesses invest in the local market, fast-food restaurants appear to outnumber mosques.

Not only is the flame of local food traditions being extinguished in a neon blaze of ketchup and mayonnaise, but fast food’s high-fat, high-salt, chemically-altered nature is poisoning those who eat it regularly.   

As a new generation of Middle Eastern parents becomes infatuated with the addictive taste and convenient lack of labor and ceremony represented by the mass-produced burger and fries, children are forming dangerous food habits likely to become life-long.

The results are most striking in the Gulf, where higher levels of disposable income translate into baroque modalities of excess body fat.  Adding insult – and irony – to injury is the fact that many fast food brands, most notably the finger-lickin’ goodness of KFC, are built on the theme of simple home cooking.

In a bold new move that is equal parts corporate coup d’état, black comedy, and UFO conspiracy, the insidious marketing campaign is no longer limited to the inhabitants of planet Earth; KFC recently unveiled an 87,000 square foot logo in the Nevada desert’s Area 51 to become the first brand visible from outer space.

For those of you blessed with metabolisms high enough to preclude grotesque gains in weight, you might want to reconsider your advantage.  Obesity is not the only side-effect of a food culture where fryolator is king; foods fried in vegetable oils like corn and canola can cause premature aging, clotting, inflammation, even cancer.  Not to mention the perpetual dull headache caused by the impossible logic of fast food’s facetious nod to moderation – consider Hardee’s new campaign for “the Little Thickburger” – for when still-too-much is just-enough.  Say wha?

Not only is fake food a problem, but in the new time-poverty of the rapidly globalizing Middle East, fake preparation methods can wreak havoc on perfectly decent food.  Both at home and in the restaurant, there is an increased reliance on microwave cooking.  Just so you know, this is a process which vibrates the molecules in your food to levels they were never meant to experience.  One study found that broccoli zapped in the microwave lost up to 97% of its beneficial antioxidant chemicals.  (By comparison, steamed broccoli lost 11% or fewer of its antioxidants.)

Enter the organic food movement, which marries sustainable farming methods with freedom from synthetic ingredients.  By balancing production demands with a concern for the health of people, animals and soil through the strict regulation of chemicals, livestock feed additives, and genetically-modified organisms, organic farming is the rational choice for the future.  It is also, sadly, the more expensive choice, at least for now.

Without the use of chemicals, food crops experience higher levels of seasonal variation and damage due to weather events, making them more expensive to grow.  And without the false protection of toxic preservatives, they are also more perishable during the shipping process.  But this hasn’t stopped the global market for organic food from growing – and at a phenomenal rate.  US sales of organic food and drink, for example, rose from $ 1 billion in 1990 to $20 billion in 2007; they are projected to reach $23 billion this year, and to grow at a further rate of 18% each year until 2010.

Fortunately, some Middle Eastern companies have caught on to the recent media blitz surrounding the dangers of chemically-grown, -treated, and -processed foods, and have started to provide consumers with excellent organic options.  Granted, places which boast serious selections of organic products are small, tucked-away specialty shops that remain under the radar.  Still, the growing regional interest in going organic is nothing to scoff at.  The Turkish government, for example, recently approved a massive $50 million-dollar land demining project in the southeast province where the Turkish, Syrian, and Iraqi borders meet, with the plan to open the mined areas for organic farming. (The prospects are extraordinary: the area comprises the ancient farmland of Upper Mesopotamia, and is home to a variety of profitable cash crops like cotton, grapes, olives and sesame; and after fifty years of lying dormant due to various military shenanigans, the land is now truly as fertile as its name suggests.)  Similar ventures in Egypt and Lebanon cultivate organic produce destined for international Gulf marketplaces like Kuwait’s Sultan Center.

So desert-dwellers, rejoice: health food is the Gulf’s newest food enterprise.  Stay tuned for my practical guide to Kuwait’s major purveyors of fresh organic foods and dry goods.  In the meantime, in memory of your grandmother’s bamya and in the name of your own body, why not donate your microwave to the lonely-looking zibala on the corner?